Left side of the chest
by Jen-Alex
Summary: After an AU final battle, Harry travels to another universe. HarrySirius HPSB
1. Chapter 1

Warning1: Harry/Sirius ie. slash ie. heavily implied m/m sex

Warning2: Later chapters contain reference to torture and iffy-consent sex (this sounds dreadful, it's not that bad, I'm basically marshmallow-fluffy - but they were in a war and wars aren't pretty).

-

Left side of the chest

-

"See," said Luna.

Hermione and Ron stared.

The boy-who-lived-twice was stretched out on his back, floating five feet off the ground, as the contents of the kitchen drawers battled above, around and below him. The Hogwarts house elves were watching indulgently as they dodged around the clashing cutlery to prepare dinner.

Harry's wands were tucked out of sight as he conducted his armies with his forefingers. His eyes were closed and he was smiling slightly.

"Okay," said Ron, "I'm mildly disturbed that I can tell the teaspoons are about to lead a successful breakout against the forks any moment now."

"Clearly the teaspoons are going to win," agreed Luna.

Hermione sighed. She'd been doing that a lot since Ron hooked up with Luna. At that moment one of teaspoons gave a great yell and charged through the air to slam into a conglomeration of forks. The remaining teaspoons flew after it shrieking. Hermione watched for a few moments longer.

"All right," she said. "Something has got to be done because I am starting to pick up the same radio signals as the rest of you. The knives are about to counterattack but they still won't win."

Luna elbowed her cheerfully. "I knew the Spurlworts would eventually leave you alone."

"Luna, I liked being infested with Spurlworts."

"Oh, how sad."

The knife counterattack was headed off by a column of howling soup spoons.

"So," said Ron, "I agree with Luna, something has got to be done."

"What do you want me to do, mate?" asked Harry, as a sole brave tablespoon took on a platoon of fish knives.

"Something more than lying around getting in the elves' way."

"Like what? Run for Minister of Magic and spend the years turning into some combination of Dumbledore and Voldemort."

"Oh no, you'd be much worse than both of them," said Luna happily.

Hermione and Ron looked at her.

Luna stared back unblinking.

"Moving on," said Ron quickly. "Isn't there anything you want to do? Or anybody you want to do things with?"

"Not really."

"Harry," protested Hermione.

"What would be a challenge, after Dumbledore and Voldemort? Who sees me instead of the-boy-who? This world is too fragile for me, whatever I do will break something." Teaspoons slammed through seven carving knives, pinning them to the wall in demonstration.

"You don't have to use your magic," Hermione tried.

"Maybe, if nobody knew about it. But the fastest gun in the West always got gunned down by somebody looking to take out the fastest gun in the West."

Luna translated that out of Muggle for Ron in an audible whisper.

"Damn," he said. "You've been thinking again, Potter. I've told you that's not good for you."

Harry laughed and the teaspoons successfully ambushed the pudding forks.

"So what do we do?" Hermione looked away as she struggled to come up with a suggestion.

"Simple," said Luna. "We send Harry away."

"What!" came in stereo from Ron and Hermione, before they could say anything more, Harry said,

"That sounds really nice." He actually sat up and bobbed down through the air until his head was level with theirs.

"You need to open your eyes Harry," Hermione reminded.

"Oh yeah, thanks." Harry's eyes blinked open.

"Why would we send Harry away?" demanded Ron. He was trying not to think that he preferred it when Harry's eyelids were shut and he didn't have to look into those Avada Kedavra eyes. Harry was one scary bastard.

"It sort of makes sense." Hermione twisted her hands nervously. "Harry is basically a really good solider with no war left to fight. I'm sure we could find him a war somewhere where he'd be useful. Another Voldemort maybe."

"You want to send him to another universe." Ron's attempt to wave his arms in frustration was cut off by a squadron of swooping butter knives. "We'll never see him again."

Both girls stared at him.

"Okay, so we're not going to be seeing him for much longer anyway." Apathy and a lucky ex-death eater were going to combine sooner or later. "But still, it's a big step."

"I'd like to be useful again," said Harry.

"Oh Merlin." There was something painfully empty in Harry's eyes, like a weapon deprived of its purpose. Ron was tempted to suggest Harry hang around and extract his pound of flesh from the Wizarding World but that would do nobody any good in the long run.

"We can do better than that mate," he said. "The changing universe spell is set up to focus on a person. There anybody you'd like to see again?"

"Sirius."

"Really? Not your mum or dad?"

"Sirius. I wouldn't mind seeing my mum and dad, but I want to see Sirius again. The Sirius he was before Azkaban."

"Harry?"

"Yes Ron."

"Why are Mione and Luna exchanging meaningful glances."

"I might, just might, have had a bit of a crush on Sirius."

"Oh," said Ron, because 'a bit of a crush' was undoubtedly a complete misnomer. One thing Harry was not, was tepid in his emotions. He was indifferent or full throttle, no half measures. "You do know it won't be him, right?"

"Yeah. But it will be Sirius as he was, before. Or Sirius as he might have been if he had been allowed the time to get over Azkaban."

There was a faint cracking sound and one of the elves said,

"Please Master Harry, Master Harry not be breaking all the dishes again."

"Sorry Nippy." A wet squelching sound and Nippy said,

"Thanking you, Master Harry."

"Sirius, huh." Ron decided that wasn't too bad an idea, because that indifferent, full-throttle thing, that was Sirius Black too. Together he and Harry would light up the world or burn it down. Thinking about it, Ron was rather glad it wasn't going to be his world.

"Me too," said Luna. "I want the time to find a crumple-horned snorkack."

Ron nodded his head. He was so tired of death and dirt and blood; hunting crumple-horned snorkacks sounded just fine to him. Hopefully Luna would agree to try spotting them from the deck of a Nile river boat for a couple of months.

"You remember to keep your head down, mate."

"Oh yes," Harry grinned goblin-like, "I never make the same mistake twice."

"Are we sure this is the right thing to do?"

"Hermione, I'll be fine."

"I know _you_ will be, I'm worried about this other world."

"They'll regret it if they've locked Sirius up for twelve years again," Harry agreed amiably.

Hermione winced.

"So how's it work anyway?"

"You click your heels three times and say 'there's no place like home'," Luna beamed.

Harry nodded, "It was fun guys."

"Luna's mistaken, that's from a children's..." Hermione broke off as Harry popped out of that existence.

"Oh."

"I was expecting something a little more dramatic than that," Ron admitted.

There was a sudden cacophony as every piece of cutlery shattered except for the triumphant teaspoons.

"Okay, still not really what I was looking for." There was a low rumble as every brick in the castle started to tremble. "But it's more than good enough for me," Ron added hastily, and the rumble dropped.

"Are we sure that was a good idea?" asked Hermione. "I mean, even if it's before Azkaban, I don't think Sirius was ever exactly stable."

Luna smiled. "Neither was Harry."

-

-

Harry popped back into another existence and immediately dropped to the ground in a protective crouch. Categorising he saw: no movement, trees, bramble, path and still no movement. Relaxing a little, but still in his crouch he scuttled until he had a tree between himself and the path.

He took three deep breaths as adrenaline flooded his body and fight or fight kicked in. He grinned, he felt more alive now than he had since the moment Voldemort shrivelled to nothing and he realised he had won – nothing.

This, however, was a brilliant idea. He owed Luna, well, he wasn't sure what but he owed her something good. (In another universe not too distant, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks suddenly existed, complete with crumpled-horns and a very confused moo.)

Harry watched the forest and the path but picked up nothing more than natural to-be-expected sounds. As he looked at his surroundings more carefully, he realised he was just off the path to Hogsmeade about half way between the village and Hogwarts.

Given the choice, Harry decided to pick Hogsmeade. He had no intention of just offering himself up to Dumbledore. He glanced down at himself. He was wearing his battle-dress robes, two Auror standard wand holsters, dragon hide armour and enchanted salamander skin boots.

He had to get rid of it all. Right now.

He stripped off his burdens, abandoning them in a disorganised heap. He was left in Muggle jeans, sweater and ratty trainers and felt more like himself for than he had in years.

He looked down at the discarded wand holsters. Two wands would make him conspicuous, Wizards needed time to attune to a wand and using two wands usually interfered with that.

Snapping Voldemort's wand wasn't a hard decision to make. He didn't like the wand, it had channelled too much dark magic for him to trust it. He'd only kept it because everybody seemed to expect him too.

He took his own wand, battered and worn like he was himself, and cast a firm Incendio. Without a Wizard's magic to power their protections, the expensive gear went up like dry parchment.

Harry grinned and tucked his wand into the pocket he had laboriously sewn to the leg of his jeans. As he glanced down he caught sight of the Potter and Black family rings on his hand.

The Potter ring belonged to somebody he wasn't, but it cost him a pang to slide the Black ring from his left heart finger. Sirius was alive here, though, so it had to go too. Holding the two rings loosely, he brought his arm back and threw them as hard and as far as he could, turning away before he saw them land.

With a light heart he set off for Hogsmeade.

-

Rosmerta's attention flew to the door as it chimed. Everyone in the pub, even those lost in their drinks, checked too. Her favourite customer had enchanted the door to chime whenever an unknown opened the door.

This was no white-masked nightmare though. The boy who tentatively poked his head around the door was a skinny, scruffy thing, obviously Muggle and obviously starveling.

"Uh hi." Still in the doorway he gave a quick nervous wave but made no attempt to introduce himself or name his friends and sureties. Which meant he must have none.

"Come in quick child," Rosmerta hurried around the bar to encourage him inside. "Quick now, we can't afford to leave the door open for long."

"Uh, okay." He obediently stepped inside, but his green eyes were puzzled.

"The Wards are so much weaker when the doors are open."

"Wards?"

"Yes, to protect the place in case They come. Wait, you do know about magic, don't you?"

"Of course," he looked positively sulky and Rosmerta gave in to the urge to ruffle his messy black hair. He flinched like he thought she intended to hit him.

"Sorry child, of course you do," she soothed, patting at the air just above his shoulder. Though there was no of course about it. Every year a few born-Muggle wizards or squibs would stumble on the Wizarding World, without the faintest idea of what they were letting themselves in for. If he had been one of them Rosmerta would have charmed her favourite customer into oblivating him and ensuring he returned safely to the Muggle world. This one though, he was the other sort, the desperate ones who knew they were different and had suffered for it.

"And you know about the, the Death Eaters," she couldn't help lowering her voice.

He hunched his shoulders. "What about them?" he asked all scornful street-tough.

Rosmerta sighed. No, this one wouldn't be returning to the Muggle world.

"So what is your name child?"

"Harry."

"Harry..?" she asked leadingly.

"Just Harry. I've got no relatives who want to claim me, I'm not claiming them."

"So how long you been on your own Harry?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Right." She wondered how old he'd been when he'd run away but doubted he'd ever tell her. She wondered if she had enough strength to try and help yet another runaway. But how could she turn him away?

"So you've got magic in you then."

"Of course." There was the insulted look again. "Got a wand and everything." He drew a wand from a long pocket sewn with large ungainly stitches to the leg of his jeans.

Rosmerta stared at the scrappy worn wand that must have been in a thousand fights and wondered who had sold him such a broken-down thing. She shook her head,

"You were rooked child. That thing's about to shatter."

"It's my wand." He clutched it protectively to his chest.

She sighed, "You even know any spells?"

"Yes, lots. Read about 'em in books."

Rosmerta looked at his conspicuously empty hands. However he managed access to magical books, he didn't have them now. She knew what some of her runaways had done to earn their bread and tried not to imagine how the scrawny youngster had obtained a look at magical books. She wished she could believe it was as innocent as reading the books in Flourish and Blotts, but nobody so obviously Muggle would have survived Diagon Alley.

"Go on then, move those empty glasses into the kitchen."

The boy waved his wand and muttered under his breath. All six glasses floated gently across the room to settle in the kitchen.

"I'm impressed," she said, "that was some control for a self-taught."

The dour expression on the boy's face, flitted through puzzlement at the praise before settling on a smug smile.

"See, I told you."

Rosmerta shook her head. He was good, strong too. Any reputable Wizard or Witch who'd met him would have taken the boy straight in and found him an apprenticeship.

"So," she asked as if she didn't already know. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, "Just thought I'd have a look around."

"Uh huh. You looking for work?"

"Maybe."

"Can you cook and clean?"

A sly smile lit up the boy's face. "Sure can."

"All right then. You can have a week's trial for bed and board. Then we'll see."

"Done."

-

Harry, still grinning, settled down to work with a will. He had been expecting suspicion and questions but instead Madam Rosmerta had just accepted him as a self-taught Muggle-born. He knew there were magical children who didn't go to Hogwarts, it made sense there were also Muggle-borns who never went. If he had really been Vernon and Petunia's son he doubted he'd have ever made it to Hogwarts.

When Rosmerta had asked him his name he had actually had the strangest impulse to answer Harry Dursley. Harry Potter was the creation of a Wizarding World three universes to the left. At base, Harry was just Harry Dursley still stuck in his cupboard.

It had been easy to play up to Madam Rosmerta's obvious assumption that he was a Muggle runaway with dubious morals, because, fundamentally, that's what he was.

And now to his intense amusement, although he had two Orders of Merlin and six mouthfuls of magical titles, he was right back where he started, elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing pots and pans.

There was something deeply satisfying in that. As if, in some unlikely way, he'd actually managed to come home.

Rosmerta called him from the bar. "Harry, can you come help me with the empties."

He dried his hands on a bar towel and hurried out. He stopped abruptly half-way between the bright kitchen and dark bar, and stared.

"Oh."

A wizard had just stepped into the pub and was pulling back the hood of his robe. His dark hair fell with casual elegance around a handsome, aristocratic face with beautiful haunted grey eyes.

Harry stopped breathing.

Clutching at Madam Rosmerta's arm, he struggled to get his voice working,

"Who is that?" he whispered. It had to be, he couldn't be wrong, fate couldn't taunt him like that. It had to be...

"Sirius Black."

-


	2. Chapter 2

-

"Sirius!"

"What?" he growled, halting his headlong rush down Hogwarts' stairs. "We've had a day-long staff in meeting in which we replayed the exact same conversations we have every August before the new term starts. I'd think I was in a bloody time loop, except then there'd be the possibility of getting out of it."

Remus smiled at him. Sirius hackles raised, Remus only smiled at him now when he wanted something and Sirius hated it.

"What?" he demanded again.

"I was thinking we should arrange some joint classes. Shall we discuss it in the library." Remus made a nervous plucking gesture as if he would physically pull Sirius up the stairs – if he could actually bear to touch him.

Sirius was definitely suspicious now. Remus was trying to keep him from the main south corridor. He turned back to continue on his way, and heard drifting up the stairs.

"Thank you Headmaster, I will see you at the Sorting Feast as usual."

James. James wasn't supposed to be at Hogwarts today. Sirius' feet automatically speeded up and he clattered down the stairs and out into the corridor. James and Dumbledore turned to face him.

"J-," he started before he remembered, "Professor Potter."

"Professor Black," James glanced down and away. James didn't like bumping into Sirius at Hogwarts any more than Sirius did.

Before Sirius could construct what he wanted to say, there were soft footsteps on the stairs and Remus appeared.

Dumbledore coughed, "Gentleman, I trust you will remember the standard of behaviour I expect from my Professors." He favoured them with a benignly dotty smile and drifted off in the direction of the Great Hall.

"James," Remus cried over-enthusiastically. "It's lovely to see you again after the summer. The weather really has been spectacular this August." Sometimes he could give Sirius' Cousin Narcissa a run for her money in the stupid small talk stakes.

"Remus," James nodded.

"So we'll be going then, shall we Sirius," Remus twisted awkwardly in place.

Sirius glared because he didn't need to be condescended to, and Remus had to have been watching the map to have turned up so opportunely to try and head him off. That was secondary though, because James was here when he wasn't scheduled to be, the Death Eaters were getting bolder every day, and James was where he wasn't supposed to be.

"Is –" he broke off to wave one hand in frustration, mouth blocked up with things he couldn't say.

"I just stopped by to let the Headmaster know I'd be teaching Wizarding Law as an advanced option, just like normal," said James, talking a spot just above Sirius' left ear.

Sirius squinted at him, trying to work out if that was a secret code for 'Voldemort attacked and we're all dead'. Then he realised exactly what James had said.

"_Just like normal_," he repeated.

"Yes," said James, and then he added, "Sorry."

"But," he cut himself off before he could say anymore. Because Remus was still there and wasn't showing any sign of buggering off.

James' eyes cut to Remus, "I'll see you around." He bobbed his head and strode away.

Sirius growled out loud with sheer frustration.

"You shouldn't push him," Remus tutted. "Be grateful James even acknowledges you."

He growled again, because it wasn't as if he hadn't heard Remus say the same words over and over again.

"Fucking time loop." He punched the wall as hard as he could, something crunched and pain lanced through his hand. "Fucking hell," he shook his hand out and had to blink to clear disappointed tears from his eyes.

"And what exactly are you trying to prove?" demanded Remus.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Sirius clenched his good hand in a fist and considered taking another swing at the wall.

"You're a mess."

There was the slightest softening in his voice and Sirius smiled up at him hopefully,

"Think I broke my hand, could you fix it? You know I'm hopeless at healing charms."

Remus considered it, Sirius could see that, then his lips firmed and flattened. "No. You need to learn to think before you act."

"Moony," he appealed.

Remus turned away, "The past is another country," he said softly, as he started to retreat up the stairs.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, "I've always hated you habit of hiding behind quotes."

Remus just kept walking up the stairs.

Sirius ground his teeth because he wasn't any fonder of that particular habit. A long time ago, in Moony's other country, James had said the only way to make Moony listen was to kidnap him, sit on him and repeat yourself until he actually heard you. They missed dinner the afternoon they convinced Remus they didn't mind about him being a werewolf.

Sirius wished that was an option in this particular case.

"Goddamnit."

Punching the wall again was starting to seem like a really good idea, and he slammed out of Hogwarts before he could, because there was pathetic and there was _pathetic_.

He was just out of sight of the castle when he heard the whistle. For a moment he was tempted to ignore it and just continue storming down to Hogsmeade.

The whistle came again and he turned obediently towards it. James stood waiting for him in the shadow of the trees.

"Goddamnit," said Sirius, because it bore repeating.

"Stupid mutt. Give me your hand, you're crap at healing charms."

"It's fine," he lied because he was not in the mood to accept favours from James. "I was just trying to soften Remus up."

"Uh huh," said James, not looking in the least convinced. He sighed, "I am sorry Padfoot but..."

"Oh shut up," he said tiredly. It wasn't as if he didn't already know everything James was going to say. "Fucking time loop."

"If you really..."

"No. You know I don't mind."

James made an obnoxious buzzing sound.

"Yeah, all right, I do mind. But it's worth it."

His best friend studied him carefully, before finally nodding, "All right then. I'll see you at the sorting feast." He apparated away with a soft pop.

"Or not," said Sirius wearily, grateful James seemed to have missed seeing the small, shameful part of him that was insisting things were not okay and it wasn't worth it.

With an effort he managed to get himself going again. He was seriously in need of a drink, and he didn't drink alone anymore, it was too dangerous. So he returned to his original plan and made for Hogsmeade.

The path was dark with shadows, it was late to be out with the rumours of Dark Revels starting up again, but frankly a good fight would do wonders for his mood. It was almost a disappointment to make it to the Three Broomsticks unmolested.

As he entered the pub, he pulled back the hood of his robe, not worried about trying to go unnoticed. The good thing about The Three Broomsticks was that the clientele had got over their tendency to stare long ago. It had been painful waiting for them to get used to him, but he was glad now that he could have a drink without anyone sneering or trying to pick a fight.

So he was not pleased to see a wide-eyed Muggle-born staggering towards him on shaky legs.

Rosmerta picked up her skirts and hurried over.

"Sirius, don't get mad. Harry's a born-Muggle, just arrived, has no idea who you are." She placed a restraining hand on each of their arms, "Harry, child, this is my favourite customer Sirius Black."

Sirius bit back his impulse to draw his wand, or glare down his nose like a true Black would, and instead studied the young man Rosie seemed so fond of. The expression on the kid's face didn't make any sense. Sirius was rather a connoisseur of dirty looks, he had received enough, everything from death-stares to look-right-through-yous. This though, this looked like awe.

One trembling hand brushed against his cheek. It was an oddly asexual gesture, as if the born-Muggle wanted to verify what he was actually seeing.

"You're here, you're really here."

Sirius could feel the brush of the young man's magic following the path of his fingers. It was warm and gentle and he couldn't help leaning into a little.

Rosmerta gasped and pressed her hands against her mouth. Backing up a couple of steps, she whispered,

"Coup de foudre."

Sirius wanted to tell her coup de foudre was ridiculously over the top romantic myth found only in novels read by teenage girls. Unfortunately his mouth didn't seem to be working just at the moment. Also, coup de foudre was looking a bit less like a myth with every second.

"You're here," said the young man again. The brush of magic came again, stronger and firmer this time. The back of Sirius' mind noted the young man's magic was seriously strong for a born-Muggle. The rest of his mind was scrabbling desperately to get a grip.

"You're here," his voice had deepened to a low growl, "And you're unhappy." The young man's face twisted up into an furious scowl.

"You could do something about that," Sirius lowered his lashes flirtatiously. His normal defences were completely collapsed and he was falling back on a tactic he hadn't used since he was twenty-two.

The scowl vanished under a bright smile. Sirius couldn't help noticing the young man had incredible green eyes.

"Happily," his smile brightened even more.

Sirius felt a bit dizzy under the strength of it.

He had no idea what was going on but he didn't exactly dislike it. Something waved in front of his face and he reached up to grab it, he didn't want anything interrupting his view of those green eyes and smile.

"Sirius!" squeaked Rosmerta.

Sirius tore his attention away from the young man and realised he had grabbed Rosmerta's wrist. He quickly let her go.

"Sorry Rosie."

"It's okay. Look, please take the key and get you and Harry upstairs and out of sight. My customers don't need a free show."

Sirius glanced around the pub and saw everybody's attention was riveted to them.

"Shit, thanks Rosie." He accepted the key off her and started for the stairs, hauling the kid after him. He still had no idea what was going on, but he was going to get to the bottom of this.

As soon as they were safely locked inside Rosmerta's best room, he turned on Harry.

"Coup de foudre is a completely ridiculous concept, neither of us are fourteen year old girls, I can't believe it even came up for consideration."

Harry smiled, honest amusement sparkling in his green eyes, "I'd agree with you but I have no bloody clue what you're talking about."

"What? But?" And then Sirius remembered Rosie saying he was a born-Muggle. Even if he did know a bit about the Wizarding World, coup de foudre was hardly likely to have come up. "Alright then, coup de foudre is the instantaneous recognition of soul mates. Merlin I can't even believe I'm discussing this."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno. 'Spect we're both just really horny."

Okay that made sense. Sirius could work with that.

"It's pretty cool though," Harry continued, "'cause I've slept with a couple of Wizards before and my magic didn't feel anything like this."

Sirius decided to ignore that comment. Because his magic was reacting strangely too. He was intensely aware of the warmth of the other man's magic and his own magic just wanted to sink into that warmth. It had been a long time since he had slept with a Wizard so that must be it, he was just lonely and horny and pathetic.

But then he already knew that.

Curious, he reached out and touched Harry's hand. The jolt of magic felt like an electric shock and he gasped, hurriedly pulling back.

"Right, if it stings like that sex is out for the considerable future."

"Oh no," the kid shook his head. "We're doing it. I've had sex with Muggles, which is fun but nothing special, I've had sex with Wizards which was better, well actually it was kinda skanky but I could see why it would be better, but it was nothing as good as this."

Sirius mentally filed away that comment on sex with Wizards being skanky. The melding of magics when Wizards or Witches had sex intensified and deepened the experience, even if the partners were just casual bedmates. For a melding of magics to be 'skanky', so did the relationship. Which meant Sirius owed some Wizards a visit at wand-point, because nobody hurt his Harry.

He blinked a little at the idea Harry was _his_ Harry and was then caught completely off guard when Harry took two quick steps into his personal space and pressed their lips together.

The jolt was still there but no longer painful, it rippled over Sirius' skin feeling like the feather light brush of fingertips. He shivered involuntarily and the hair rose on the back of his arms. Harry was taller than him, he noted, which was just unfair, somebody had seriously stacked the deck against him. Under the coaxing of Harry's tongue, he opened his mouth and sank dizzily into the other man.

Mindlessly, he flung his hands out for balance and gasped in very much not pleasure when he banged his right hand against the wall and the broken bones shifted beneath his skin.

Harry stepped back quickly, "What's wrong?" He was hovering a good foot away, hands extended as if he wanted to touch, but wasn't sure his touch would be welcome. "Are you okay?"

"Not your fault," Sirius closed the gap between them and slid his good hand around Harry's waist. "Just banged my hand. I busted it on a wall."

"Ahh," Harry nodded knowledgeably, "Better than a mirror, or even worse a window."

"Exactly." Sirius beamed. He'd never met anyone, not even James, who appreciated the practicality of punching walls.

"Let me see."

Sirius held out his hand for inspection and winced at the misaligned bones still visible beneath the purple swollen skin. Abruptly it started to hurt a lot more.

"Geez, you were really going for it."

"If a things worth doing, it's worth doing properly."

"Exactly," Harry flashed him a quick smile. "Now, I'm not precisely _bad_ at healing charms."

"Uh huh," he said sceptically.

"No honest, I can heal stuff no problems. Lots of practice."

Sirius wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. He considered asking why a born-Muggle had a lot of practice with healing charms, but he was fairly sure that was a fire-whiskey sort of conversation, "So when you say _not bad_?"

"It tends to hurt." Harry looked down at him earnestly. "Quite a bit."

He shrugged his shoulders, "You can't be any worse at it than me. Give it a whirl."

Harry grinned brightly and Sirius was suddenly aware that the kid really was a kid. He couldn't be much older than Davey. The he focused again and aged ten years in a way Sirius hope Davey never did.

Drawing his wand, he pointed it at Sirius' hand and said, "_Heal!_" very firmly.

The world greyed out around Sirius and breathing became an issue. His whole hand felt like it was being turned inside out. He wanted to scream but he didn't have enough air to manage it.

Slowly the world firmed back around him and he realised he was sitting on the floor with Harry kneeling at his side, arms wrapped around him.

"Sorry, so sorry," Harry was whispering, "didn't think, sorry."

"Sweet Merlin. What did you do?" He blinked hard and stared at his hand. He wouldn't have been all that surprised if it hadn't been there – but it was, bruises and broken bones all gone. Flexing and twisting it, he inspected it carefully but couldn't find a single flaw.

"Wow, you even got rid of the swelling, not even skele-gro does that, not completely."

"I'm sorry," Harry was still apologising, "I should have thought, I'm sorry. Usually by the time it's desperate enough that I'm healing somebody, they're already unconscious."

"Hey, it's okay. It doesn't hurt any more. And you were way better at it that I would have been. I've never had the knack for healing charms."

"Huh." Green studied him and Sirius shifted uneasily because they seemed to be weighing up his every flaw.

"So," he said huskily, lowering his eye lashes and smiling up at his partner in a way he would have done fourteen years ago. "Where were we?"

Harry's eyes went satisfactorily wide.

"I think we were about here." He kissed Harry again, and it was just as good as before. Wriggling up off the floor, he straddled Harry's lap and kept on kissing as Harry's hands started work on jeans.

All the awkward and bewildering feelings he didn't know how to deal with thankfully faded out under the sweetness of sex. Sirius understood sex, sex was good. In fact sex with Harry was a bit too good but he wasn't going to worry about that now, instead he gathered his scattered wits and settled down to the enjoyable task of blowing Harry's mind in return.

-

Sirius' eyes blinked open and for a second he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling in complete confusion. His body reported in with a string of aches that suggested he wasn't misremembering when he thought he had company last night.

He lifted one hand to rub at the stinging bite on the join of his neck. Harry was _such_ a teenager, he hadn't had a hickey in years.

Harry?

The unease nagging at him swelled to a shout. Sirius yanked himself away from the warm body still wrapped around him and sat up.

Harry snuffled in his sleep, rolled over and hooked an arm around Sirius' thigh before settling back down.

In the half light of the early morning, he looked almost impossibly young. Sirius had no idea what he had been thinking. He couldn't believe he'd fallen straight into bed with a kid who, judging by Rosie's protectiveness, needed a friend more than a fucked-up Black fucking him up.

He needed to get out of there. There was no point hanging around. Even if, well, it didn't matter. Somebody, a lot of somebodies probably, would be happy to let Harry know just how bad an idea Sirius Black was. And there was nothing Sirius could do about it. It would be better for both of them if they skipped morning-after recriminations.

He ruffled the raggedy black hair.

"Sorry kid, but really is for the best. But, uh, if you could do me a favour, just ignore me next time you see me. I'm not sure I could take you spitting at me."

Gently he peeled the clinging hands away from his leg and stuffed a pillow in Harry's arms to keep them occupied. The kid grunted and tightened his grip.

Not letting himself touch the soft skin, he stroked his fingertips through the air just above the kid's face. Their magics brushed gently against each other and the slight tightness in Harry's face smoothed out. Sirius thought he might even be smiling.

Before he gave in and ruined his good intentions, he climbed hastily out of bed and grabbed up his clothes.

Fully dressed, if not quite respectable, he crept to the door. Pausing he turned back to look at the kid. Drawing his wand he circled the tip then flicked the charm towards the sleeping boy.

"_Dulci Somina_, sweet dreams Harry."

Downstairs his attempt at a clean get-away was thwarted by Rosmerta.

"Sirius Black, just where do you think you are going?"

"Running out, it's what I do best after all."

"Do not give me that claptrap."

"Look Rosie, it will be better for everybody if I skip out before the shouting starts."

"I think you underestimate him. He strikes me as the determined sort. When you think about it he'd have to be."

Sirius' mood darkened, "Yeah about that. As far as I can tell all he owns is what he was standing up in."

Rosmerta nodded.

"And you hired him on?"

Rosmerta nodded again. Sirius shook his head, Merlin, but that woman was a soft touch.

"Give him an advance on his salary to buy what he needs. I'll cover it if he bails."

"As you wish Lord Black."

Sirius blushed, "Sorry, that was a bit Lord Blackish, wasn't it. I didn't mean to. I just..."

"Got to you didn't he."

"No," Sirius lied.

Rosie had the gall to laugh at him. "Don't worry Sirius, I'll keep an eye on him for you. But don't stay away too long, he deserves better than that."

"Better than me," corrected Sirius. He brought his hood up to hide his face, turned sharply on his heel, and strode away.

-


	3. Chapter 3

-

Harry woke up snuggled up to a pillow. There was a disturbing sense of being totally alone. Struggling to open his eyes, he squinted around the room while his hands blindly patted across the bed.

Sirius was definitely not there.

Harry sat up, folded his arms and pouted. This was not on. Sirius was supposed to be here. He'd been looking forward to waking up with someone for once. Ron had said sleepy morning after sex was the best and Harry wanted the chance to try it.

He patted himself comfortingly on the shoulder.

This was only the beginning, he pep-talked. After all, last night he got to see and talk and touch Sirius which was more than he'd ever hoped for.

It had been the real Sirius too. The one he'd caught glimpses of through the pain and loss of the Sirius he had known. Fogged over by Azkaban and his second imprisonment in Grimmauld Place there hadn't been much of Sirius left by the time Harry knew him.

The Dursleys had a Great Aunt Enid, she'd been nice to Harry. Dursley-nice true, but still significantly nicer than anybody else. Then senility started to cloud her eyes and the Great Aunt he knew was eaten alive by a vicious, angry old woman.

Sirius had been like that. Mostly gone. Harry had loved what was left of his godfather, but the flashes of the real Sirius tantalised him. It had hurt talking to Sirius that last year as imprisonment in Grimmauld Place slowly obscured everything Sirius had recovered from Azkaban.

Last night, just for a second, Harry had seen that same lost, hopeless expression on this Sirius' face and he had wanted to kill.

Then Sirius had grinned at him and Harry's crush came throttling back full-force. He was a bit surprised he'd neither stammered or blushed, but Sirius had looked as off-balance as he felt and for once it seemed like he and his date were on the same side.

It was a nice feeling, that it wasn't a battle somebody had to loose, but a joint conspiracy to enjoy themselves.

And they had really enjoyed themselves. At least, Harry had – maybe it had been nothing special for Sirius.

Maybe sex between Wizards always felt like that. Harry didn't have much to compare it to. He'd had three magical partners: Blaise Zabini (to lower Zabini's Occulmency shields), Lucius Malfoy (ostensibly to encourage trust between them, Lucius had thought Harry was trying to get the location of Horcrux out of him, in actuality Harry was distracting him while Hermione and Ron stole said Horcrux), and Severus Snape (because Snape was a opportunist with a freaky fixation on Harry's eyes). Not unsurprisingly none of the experiences was anything to write home about. If Harry actually had a home to write to.

After Voldemort he'd a few one-night stands with Muggles, both men and women, but he had to tell so many lies it always left him with the taste of bitter guilt in his mouth. Wizards and Witches he could have for the asking, but their greedy hunger gave him the shivers.

They only wanted the boy-who-lived and couldn't have picked Harry out of a police line up. They'd go for the heroic looking guy at the other end every time.

He did not, in fact, look heroic at all. Last night Sirius had called him a bedraggled little alley-cat. Even with his limited experience, Harry was pretty sure that did not count as romantic. It did, however, suggest Sirius had actually seen him, Harry, and wanted him for himself. That was better than romantic any night of week.

Sirius had even forgiven him for messing up healing his hand. Harry had never been able to work out why his healing charms were so rubbish. Nobody else made people cry when they healed papercuts.

But Sirius hadn't complained, or yelled, just crawled onto Harry's lap and kissed him. Trained in hit and run fucks, Harry had slid his hand straight into Sirius' trousers and jerked him off, determined to make Sirius come before fate decided to mess with him again.

Sirius, warm and fragile in his hand, had moaned and gasped, coming hot and sticky across his palm. Harry had been too frantic to remember everything, to take in more than a scattershot of impressions. Bruise-tight grip on his hip, teeth of the zip catching against the skin of his wrist, soft gasps hot against the side of neck, magic sparking under his fingertips and Sirius relaxed and heavy across his thighs.

Harry had wanted to do it all over again right then and there.

But Sirius had pushed him away, and he'd sighed because he'd figured that was it. Then Sirius smiled at him, soft and gentle.

"Huh?" Harry had said, because had Sirius really called him an alley cat?

"It's okay kid, now c'mere and let me return the favour."

"Huh."

Sirius ran one large hand through Harry's hair and, oh that was nice, Harry pressed closer. Sirius chuckled at him and suddenly his hands were everywhere, soothing, petting and stroking. Drunk on Sirius touching him, it was almost a surprise when he came.

Dozy and sated, Harry was too far gone to pretend he didn't mind when Sirius moved away again. He clutched at his lover with arms, legs and teeth.

"Careful, you need to take it easy on the old man. Rosmerta gave us the room with the good bed, let's not waste it."

And things just got better until Harry could see nothing but Sirius' grey eyes and feel nothing but Sirius' touch and the magic flaring to life between them. When they fell over the edge they went together. The spike of magic burnt across Harry's retinas and he collapsed into darkness and Sirius.

Now Sirius was gone. Harry shivered and tugged the duvet up tight around him. He suddenly realised he was cold, a bone deep cold he hadn't even noticed until Sirius' presence had warmed him for those few hours.

The idea that last night had been nothing special to Sirius stung something fierce. But Sirius had at least had fun, he was sure of that. And from what he'd heard, sex improved no end with practice. Harry was quick learner and he was more than up for practicing, with Sirius.

He hadn't travelled to whole new universe to fall at the first obstacle. After all, it took him seven attempts to destroy Voldemort. Harry did not shine at book-learning, or intelligence, or charm, or looks, or even sex apparently. Determination, though, he had in spades. He grinned goblin-like.

Sirius Black didn't stand a chance.

-

Rosmerta waited anxiously for her protégé to ask questions she wasn't sure how to answer or to express dismay at Sirius disappearance.

But from the moment he bounced downstairs, Harry hadn't stopped smiling. He was now singing something cheerful under his breath as he mopped the floor.

She finally decided she needed to say something.

"Sirius behave himself last night?"

"Nope." His grin turned distinctly dirty.

Rosmerta laughed, "You're too young to look like that."

"I'm not young at all," said Harry matter-of-factly.

On reflection, she supposed he wasn't.

-

Neville and his entourage turned late afternoon. His parents and trainers talked about a successful summer but to Sirius 'the Prophesied One' looked strung out and punch drunk. He caught the poor boy's attention and smiled encouragingly. Neville stared at him blankly but his eyes screamed _help me_.

Steeling himself, he edged forward until the crowd of Order members and Professors had to notice him.

"Right then," he said, "I'll escort young Neville to Pomfrey for his medical assessment, shall I?"

He collected several dirty looks for his presumption at speaking up but, as nobody else wanted to leave the mother's meeting they called a 'Progress Update', Dumbledore said,

"Very well Sirius. I think the rest of us should adjourn to my office. I shall ask the house-elves to serve afternoon tea."

Sirius ducked his head to hide his smile. They'd be gossiping away until dinner.

"Come along Neville," he urged, leading the way out of the Great Hall. Once they were out of sight he dropped back to rest a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder and was dismayed when Neville flinched violently.

"What have they being doing to you?" he demanded, stepping away to give Neville his space. The boy moved to follow him, then pulled away to stand on his own.

"Reflexes training," he confessed miserably.

Sirius shook his head, he should have known. Neville was fifteen now which was the traditional age for reflexes training, but reflexes training was so obviously the last thing likely to help Neville, he had hoped that the Order would put it off.

Neville had stopped walking and was staring up at him with big eyes. He looked exactly like the fawns when they were little and wanted their hands held but felt they were too grown-up to ask.

Sirius had suffered through reflexes training himself under his mother's tutelage the summer he turned fifteen. And he remembered how he felt when he made it back to Hogwarts after a summer of training, shying away from any movement but desperate for safe human contact. James had let him spend the night curled up as Padfoot at the end of his bed until sometime past Christmas.

He held his hand out, and Neville grabbed on eagerly in a tight two-handed grip. Together they continued towards the medical wing.

"They keep sneaking up on you with stinging hexes?" Sirius did so hope it hadn't been worse than stinging hexes.

"Yes, and pinches if they managed to get close enough." Neville sighed. "It didn't hurt, not really."

Sirius sighed with relief, even though he knew it wasn't so much the pain that was the problem but the jumping out your skin on a regular basis for weeks and weeks until the slightest sound made you twitch.

"They kept doing it when I was asleep too. I wasn't good enough at coming up fighting. I did try, honest, but I was so tired sometimes I didn't wake up until the third hex."

He bit back his curses because it wasn't fair to insult Neville's parents in front of him, but fucking Merlin, what were Frank and Alice thinking? Frank could blather on about how Pureblood training had been the making of him but it was destroying Neville, and he and Alice were too scared-blind by the prophecy and Voldemort's return to see it.

"You can sleep when we get to the hospital wing. In fact I suspect Madam Pomfrey will insist upon it."

He was right, Madam Pomfrey took one look at Neville and said,

"Reflexes training?"

Sirius nodded, "Mild version."

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Right. Now you go straight to sleep Neville. You needn't worry, Professor Black and I will make sure nobody disturbs you."

Neville eyed the bed longingly. "I'm not sure I can. Whenever I'm nearly asleep, I think I hear something and wake right up."

Sirius remembered that. "Okay, how about if I stay with you." He swished his wand at the bed and turned it into a sofa. Sitting down he rested one of the cushions against his thigh to serve as a pillow. "Lie down, I'll keep watch for you."

"An excellent idea," praised Madam Pomfrey.

Neville lay down, curling up into as tight a ball as possible. Madam Pomfrey grabbed a blanket from one of the other beds and draped it over him. Sirius rested his hand on Neville's shoulder and Neville gave a shuddery little sigh before going still.

Sirius tilted his head, Neville's face was lax and soft.

"He's asleep," he whispered.

"Best thing for him, poor love. I had hoped I'd seen the last of Pureblood training."

"But Madam, it's _tradition_," Sirius hissed scornfully.

"Been slackening off these past forty years."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh not your family. The Slytherins are always behind the times. However almost nobody trains girls these days. Sorry," she added when Sirius winced. "And this will be the third generation of Weasleys to have no training at all. The McLaggens and Macmillians are second generation. Your Mr Potter had no training either," the Nurse smiled slyly, "and I think he'd take drastic steps to ensure nobody inflicted it on his son."

"If James had a son."

"Yes, if."

There was an expectant pause. Finally, to break the silence, Sirius said, "Will you take a message to Owlery for me?"

"Of course. I'll fetch you some parchment."

It had been a spur of the moment decision and it took Sirius a while to decide what to write, in the end he went with,

_It's not just me, you tosser._

Because there wasn't really anything else to say.

"Here," he handed it over. "Give it to Hedwig, she'll know where to go."

Madam Pomfrey patted him on the head like he was Neville.

"You're a good boy, Mr Black."

She left, having masterfully reduced him to a schoolboy status. Sirius leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes.

Harry's face immediately appeared and he quickly reopened his eyes. He was not going to think about Harry. Not about how the poor kid was coping in a strange new world, not about what had put those shadows in his eyes and definitely not about how Harry had felt in his arms.

Last night clearly rated a twelve on the coffee scale (hot, strong and sweet) he and James had invented to grade their nocturnal encounters back when they were idiots. It just seemed wrong to apply the coffee scale to Harry, like trying to describe a music with words; you were missing so much out, you might as well not bother to try.

The thing was, James had stopped using coffee scale when he had started dating Lily, and Sirius thought that now he understood why. He was so completely screwed.

He'd have liked to get up and pace, and nearly did, just stopping himself from jumping to his feet and knocking Neville to the floor. Forcibly turning his thoughts away from Harry, he reminded himself of his responsibility for Neville. He could torture himself all he wanted but the poor boy deserved as much the sleep he could get.

Rubbing his thumb against his mouth, Sirius wondered if Madam Pomfrey would help him curse Neville with a non-painful but lingering illness that would let them keep him safely in the infirmary for the next month or two.

Maybe he could find the boy a pet. Something a bit more comforting than a toad, no matter how good toads were as spell foci.

Harry would need a familiar too, and he wasn't likely to have the spare galleons for months. The kid had such a tattered wand, Sirius wanted him to have something better for a familiar. Maybe he could buy a kneazle kit and dump it round the back of the Three Broomsticks for Harry to find.

"No," Sirius told himself firmly but quietly. "Not thinking about Harry."

Instead he began to work on the current Arthimancy problem with their creation of Katschei's Bane. Without a quill and parchment he didn't get very far, but the mental maths involved kept his mind out of trouble.

Finally Madam Pomfrey reappeared,

"Sorry, but it's nearly dinner time. Neville needs to put in an appearance."

Sirius shook him cautiously. Neville groaned and his arms spasmed. "Up you get," he encouraged. The boy moaned and tried to burrow down under the blanket. "Up you get Neville, Moody have you standing at attention for hours for this sort of laxity. Come on now."

"Mr Longbottom," said Pomfrey.

Neville flinched violently and sat up. "I'm awake," he yelped, hands coming up to cover his ears and neck protectively. "I'm awake." His eyes scanned the room blindly.

Sirius closed his eyes. He didn't know which idiot had been in charge of Neville's training but said idiot deserved to be hexed into oblivion. He might hate his own training, and his mother for inflicting it, but it had at least left him able to wake in an instant, wand automatically in his hand. Training Neville into cringing blind fear outraged Sirius because it was cruel, but even a stone-cold, insanely paranoid Slytherin like Moody should realise it was also bloody useless. In fact it was worse than useless, it was actively harmful both to Neville and their cause.

"I need to go and speak to the Headmaster," he said through teeth gritted against the need to swear. "Neville I'll see you later. Madam Pomfrey."

"Good day Sirius."

"Bye Pr'fessor Black," whispered Neville, waving to him.

Sirius waved back. Sometimes he could hardly believe Neville was the same age as Davey. Despite all the extra training and attention, right then Neville seemed years younger.

He tracked Dumbledore down with renewed determination and caught him just before he and Remus entered the Great Hall.

"Headmaster, could you spare a few minutes to discuss Neville's training with me. I really don't feel this summer's training was useful or productive."

Remus snorted.

"What?" Sirius glared.

"You and James haven't spoken for years, don't even look at each other when you can help it and yet you're still sharing the same brain."

"What?"

"James just came by and said exactly the same thing, except he was a lot louder about it."

"Any chance you listened?"

Dumbledore imposed himself upon the conversation, "I have told both you and Professor Potter on numerous occasions that Neville's training is best left in the hands of his parents and the Order."

"Okay, I get that you're not going to listen to me, you effectively revoked my Order membership way back then, but could you please, please listen to James."

"As I said, I do not feel it is your place to criticize the arrangements Neville's parents have put in place to protect their son. James never underwent Pureblood training and is unable to appreciate the benefits."

_No_, thought Sirius furiously, _he just patched me together every September_. There wasn't anything James didn't know about Pureblood training.

"If he were in the same position of as the Longbottoms, I have no doubt his views would change materially."

_No they fucking wouldn't_, he thought so loudly he was sure Dumbledore picked it up, even through his Occulmency shields.

The Headmaster just stared at him with grave disapproval for a long moment before moving off.

"Remus," Sirius appealed.

Remus was already following Dumbledore into the Great Hall.

Without another word, Sirius turned sharply on his heel and strode towards the nearest exit.

-

While Rosmerta was checking on the stew cooking on the hob, Harry took the opportunity to dart out into the bar and see if Sirius had arrived yet. He was trying not to watch the door too obviously, but from her amused glance he figured he wasn't being quite as subtle as he had hoped.

Sirius still hadn't arrived.

Harry twitched impatiently and gratefully seized on the distraction when one of the customers, a big burly man with a bald head and beard, beckoned to him.

"Yessir?"

"Hey kid," the man grinned showing uneven yellow teeth, "you looking for that bastard Black?"

Harry full attention lasered in on the man's stupid face.

"He run out on you already, huh? Well let me tell you something about Black and running out."

-

Sirius stormed all the way to the Three Broomsticks before coming to an abrupt halt across the street. He couldn't go inside, it wouldn't do anybody any good. Harry had to have heard by now and Sirius knew his own mood was too volatile to handle whatever the kid said with any grace at all. He'd either take a swing, or burst into tears and he wasn't sure which option horrified him more.

He turned away for the Hog's Head, it wasn't as if he could face eating anything anyway, and firewhiskey suited his current temper better than beer. He was halfway there when Hedwig reappeared. She circled him slowly, preked loudly, landed on his shoulder and promptly nipped at his ear.

"Hey quit it," he scolded, "I haven't blown anybody up, even if I was tempted. I was a positive angel."

Hedwig went for his ear again.

"Yeah okay, that was a bit of stretch." He hooked the note from her leg.

_Eat something, you stupid moron._

Sirius pulled a biro out of his pocket.

_Fuck off, you old nag_, he scrawled by way of reply. He twisted the parchment into a spiral and attached it Hedwig's leg. With a shrug of his shoulder he encouraged her to take flight.

He stood still to watch her soar away in the cool summer air, and that was when Rosmerta's wards pinged.

It wasn't the full out-flare of a Death Eater attack, just the prickle of more violence than Rosmerta was happy with. Still, it was enough to make Sirius take off at a run.

Shoving his way into the pub and past the gawping audience, he found a chaotic melee of bodies and shouting. He picked Rosie out first, trying to restore order, and pulled her back. She resisted at first, then recognised him,

"Oh Sirius, thank Merlin you're here."

"You shouldn't get involved," he scolded absently as he eyed the fight and tried to calculate the most effective point to intervene.

"I'm not going to let them murder Harry."

Sirius suddenly picked out the shaggy black hair in the middle of the scuffling bodies and all his relief at finding nothing more than a bar brawl, burnt up in fury. His wand jumped into his hand,

"_Mobilcorpus_."

Flicking his wand, he threw the heavy bodies left and right to crash back against the walls, noting as he did so it was the three loud-mouthed Byerson brothers, until there was only Harry, wild and whip-thin, left.

Harry fumbled at the sudden disappearance of his attackers, glanced around, caught sight of Balin Byerson, the oldest and loudest brother, and dived for him.

Sirius hastily holstered his wand and lunged for the kid. Hissing and spitting, Harry fought him, even after he realised who held him.

"Lemme go Sirius, I'm gonna smash their faces in."

Sirius very nearly lost his grip on the squirming kid when he understood that, as improbable as it seemed, _Harry_ had jumped the Byerson brothers.

"Easy there wild cat," he cautioned, fielding swinging arms and legs, "There's three of them and one of you. And one of them's easily twice your size. Hasn't anybody taught you to play the odds?"

"Smash their smug, stupid faces in."

"Fucking Merlin." Sirius finally got a good grip on his wild cat, picked him up and shook him. "Calm down," he ordered, "if they really need their faces smashing in," which he found hard to believe because the Byersons were only idiots, not full-on creeps, "I promise I'll help you, but for now calm down."

"Oh no, you don't need to dirty your hands, not while I'm here."

Which give Sirius the nasty feeling he knew what all this was about. "I don't need you taking up for me." He shook the kid again and was relieved to feel him go limp.

"You so do," he said, suddenly all sulky, stubborn teenager.

Somebody laughed. "Sweet Merlin kid, why are you kicking up all this fuss over a stinking coward who sold out his best friend to save his own miserable hide."

Harry's head snapped around and his gaze narrowed in on the speaker, Turner, a plump little man who had an opinion on everything and wasn't afraid to impose it.

"It's the honest truth," Turner defended himself. "You-know-who came calling and Black gave up the Potters, and You-know-who murdered that pretty little witch and her baby. Don't know how Potter can stand to look at him without killing him," he spat at the floor.

Sirius swallowed hard, because it still hurt to hear that disgust ever after all these years. Harry had stopped glaring at Turner and was staring at him with huge green eyes. Sirius made himself meet those eyes, because Harry deserved it.

"It's true," he made himself say. "I told Voldemort where James was, I killed Liliana Rose and the baby."

"Oh Sirius," whispered Harry.

Sirius had never see somebody's heart break before, wouldn't have thought you could, but Harry was shattering to pieces right in front of him. For the first time since he told Remus, he had to clench his jaw to keep back the words that wanted to bubble out and explain the unexplainable.

"Sorry he aint the knight in shining armour you thought he was kid," there was rough laughter in Turner's voice and Sirius wanted to punch him for his amusement at Harry's distress.

Harry's wand was in his hand and there was killing intent in those green eyes. Sirius closed his own eyes because he couldn't fight Harry, and he deserved it for forgetting for those few moments that he was a pariah.

"You know _nothing_," Harry's voice was low hiss. "You are talking about the man who was brave enough to put himself between Voldemort and his best friend. Any of you here willing to do the same? Any of you willing to stand up and be counted in the fight? Hell, I'll make it easy for you, any of you willing to stand between this man and what I'm about to do to him?"

Sirius had got his eyes open by then, and wasn't surprised to find the whole pub was frozen. These people hadn't had a Hogwarts education, had probably never drawn a wand in anger in their lives. A brawl was one thing, wandwork quite another. And Harry held that wand with way too much familiarity for a born-Muggle.

Sirius was frozen himself, that was from pure shock. Nobody had defended him before. He couldn't expect James to, of course, but he had thought that maybe... but no, nobody had, not until his wild cat.

Who was stalking Turner down.

"Harry, stop."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything _unforgivable_. I think I'll start with Lacerastis, Voldemort likes that one, doesn't he? It's not even that painful, relatively speaking. Bit like being tickled with skewers."

That was a frighteningly accurate description of the curse. Sirius had to swallow down the need to puke at the thought of someone using it on Harry.

"Harry, please," his voice was shaking, "please stop."

Harry turned to him and Sirius was hopelessly grateful to see the hard look fade.

"Oh Sirius, Sirius I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I would never, I'm sorry." His wand vanished back into his ridiculous pocket and he was creeping forwards with cautious steps like he excepted Sirius to bolt on him. Tentative hands fluttered towards him, as if he was unsure of his welcome.

Sirius caught one sturdy hand, "It's okay, Kid. Come on now let's get out of here." He tugged gently and was relieved when Harry followed him.

"Sirius," Rosmerta called him quietly, and handed him a key.

"Thanks Rosie."

"Just get him out of here." She smiled at Harry fondly.

It occurred to Sirius that while Rosmerta had never actually defended him, she had never acted like he was something to be scraped off her shoe either. That she was the one who made the Three Broomsticks into something as close to home as he could hope for.

"Thanks Rosie," he said again, his throat clogging with how inadequate those words were given what she had done for him.

She winked at him.

-


End file.
